


Seance

by TessMonster



Category: Beetlejuice (1988)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:15:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27982917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TessMonster/pseuds/TessMonster
Summary: Lydia uses a talking board to contact the other side.
Relationships: Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	Seance

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to TheArtOfSuicide  
> Thanks for the beta. Thank you for pushing me to write, and for all the time and energy you put into helping me be better.
> 
> This is my first solo story. Enjoy my cherry popper folks.

When she decided to use the talking board to contact the other side, it was half on a whim. Who needed to talk to spirits that way when one had a house full of ghosts? Alas, there was one ghost beyond her reach that she was desperate to speak to again. 

Her ghostly parents were wonderful, and they made up for shortcomings in her living parents but late at night when she was alone, and couldn’t sleep, there was only one ghost she wanted to talk to. Lydia knew the Maitlands didn’t answer her questions truthfully or completely when she asked, trying to protect her in their own way. She didn’t want protection. She wanted answers. 

She retired early that evening after taking a shower, retreating to her room to set up for the seance. Lydia placed every candle with care, set up all the little braziers, and filled them with incense cones. Then, she got herself ready, piling her hair up into a mass of curls and dressing in one of her nicer long black nightgowns with a matching robe, and just enough makeup to cover how she hadn’t been sleeping. Getting all dolled was ridiculous, she realized, because she was using a talking board and had no intention of seeing or being seen anything this evening. Still, she applied mascara and just one coat of red lipstick‒ a color she knew he favored. 

The room was aglow with candles. Incense made the air hazy with sweet smoke. The floor had been cleared to make space for an antique lace tablecloth to be spread over the carpet. Here, she placed a talking board and planchette in the center and surrounded that with several more small candles, each carefully and specifically arranged. 

As the witching hour approached, Lydia realized if she was going to do this tonight, she had better get to it. It was now or never. She could always clean up and put the talking board in its proper place at the back of her closet and pretend she had never found it. Pretend she didn’t set up all of this with the hopes of contacting him. 

Settling next to the makeshift altar on the floor, Lydia reached out with shaking hands and very lightly put her fingertips on the edge of the planchette. Taking a deep breath, her eyes shut as she leaned forward over the board. Thoughts clearing, she focused on who she wanted to contact on the other side. That pale mossy face and wild hair was burnt into her mind's eye. The temperature in the room dipped. It had been sweltering from the admittedly unsafe number of burning candles but now her breath was clearly visible. 

“Hel...hello?” It came out more breathy than she anticipated and she swallowed hard. She lived with ghosts for goodness’ sakes! Trying to talk to someone beyond the veil shouldn’t have been this nerve wracking. 

Nothing. The room stayed silent. The mute tick of her alarm clock could be heard on the bedside table. The planchette didn’t even wiggle.

“It’s Lydia. Lydia Deetz,” she tried again, her voice steadier than before‒ still breathy but less unsure. “I’m trying to contact, um...Betel…” 

Lydia let out a shaky sigh. She didn’t want to finish his name. She wasn’t trying to bring him back to the house, she just wanted to talk to him. She had questions and felt like he was the only one who would give her honest answers. 

This was a stupid idea. He wasn’t going to answer her. She might as well just pack up all this mess and forget about it. 

Just as she was almost done convincing herself of that, the candlelight dimmed. The planchette began to vibrate under her fingertips. As it spelled, she whispered the letters out loud; “W-H-A-T-- Y-O-U --W-A-N-T.” 

Well. That was rude but honestly, what did she expect? 

“I... I just wanted to talk to you,” she licked her lips and leaned in closer to the board so she wouldn’t miss the next words that were spelled out for her, “I wanted to know if you were okay... after…what happened?” 

D-E-A-D--B-A-B-E

Lydia let out a nervous giggle, she moved to wipe her sweaty palms on her robe. The planchette was moving on its own now, zipping along the letters rapid fire. Completely invested, she shifted from crouching on her knees to flat on her butt on the floor.

S-A-Y--I-T--W-E--C-A-N--T-A-L-K 

“Uh... no. We can talk like this.” 

The planchette zipped for the “Goodbye” at the bottom of the board.

“No, wait...please...” There was a hint of panic in her voice. It was shameful how easily he had her begging. 

The scent of cigarette smoke started to mingle with the incense. The candles around the edge of the room slowly fizzled out, one by one. 

C-O-M-E--O-N--Y-A--K-N-O-W--Y-A--W-A-N-N-A

“No. I don’t.” Her eyes narrowed at the board as she huddled in her robe, the chill starting to creep into her skin. “The last time I called you, you tricked me into almost marrying you and then you got eaten by a sandworm.” 

W-E--H-A-D--A--D-E-A-L--B-A-B-E 

“I’m not your ‘babe’,” she muttered under her breath. He must have been able to hear her because a sudden, loud banging from the attic made her jump, then purse her lips in annoyance at the board.

Y-O-U--O-W-E--M-E--S-A-Y--I-T

“No, I don’t think I will.” She was picking at loose threads in the lace table-cloth now. “Will you answer some questions for me?”

N-O--R-U-N-A-W-A-Y--B-R-I-D-E

She sighed and made a show of looking at the board with deep and sincere disappointment. Her fingers landed on the planchette again. When she started to drag it towards “Goodbye”, the little wooden piece shot out from under her fingers and started to spell again.

D-O-N-T--G-O

“I think I’m done for tonight, thank you,” she reached for the planchette again and it zipped away quickly pointing out more letters.

C-A-L-L--M-E--A-G-A-I-N 

“We’ll see about that.” There was a victorious grin in place as she dragged the planchette to “Goodbye”, this time not letting him steal it from her grasp. 

Maybe next time, he would answer her questions, and maybe someday, she would say his name.


End file.
